Breakfast At Birdie's
by Hipster Canada
Summary: "Gilbert, My house, 7am. Be there. -Birdie"


**_This oneshot is a leeeeettle bit smutty, so stop now if that bothers you.__ I don't usually write smut, but I was absolutely dying to write some PruCan and this is where it took me.  
This fic started with a writing prompt from a friend. The prompt was "Gilbert, My house, 7am. Be there. -Birdie"  
The resulting fic is what you see here. Please enjoy. :)_**

* * *

"That is it," Matthew growled, slamming his hand into the table and rising from his chair. "I'm sick of acting like a stuttering idiot whenever I see him. I just need... I need to tell him. I need to tell him, and whatever happens, happens. Oh good maple, how am I supposed to tell him?" Matthew moaned, bracing his hands on the table, letting his head hang between them. "No. No. I'm not a spineless, beaver-hugging lumberjack. I am Matthew Williams, the nation of Canada. I am going to tell Gilbert how I feel. I am going to tell him that I love him. And I am going to tell him tonight!"

With those words, meant to boost his still wavering courage, Matthew pushed himself off the table, grabbed his jacket, and strode through the front door. "Prussia had better be at home."

* * *

Matthew knocked on the front door of Germany's house, trying his hardest to keep up his courage. Footsteps sounded from inside and suddenly the door flew open and Matthew was greeted by a hyperactive Italian covered in flour. "Ve, ciao! Have we met before? I feel like I know you. Do you know me? I'm Feliciano."

Matthew smiled faintly, having to force it a little. "Yeah, we've met before. I'm Matthew. Canada."

"Oh, you're Mister Prussia's friend! I remember now. Are you here to see Mister Prussia?"

"Y-yeah."

"Ve, well he and Germany went out for a while. They didn't say when they would be back. Would you like to come in and have some pasta? I'm making lots!"

"Uhm, n-no. That's okay. W-would you give Gilbert a message for me?"

"Sure! But I'm not very good at remembering things, so maybe you should write it down! Come inside, and I'll find some paper, okay?" Feliciano scurried away from the door and disappeared. Matthew followed and found him in the kitchen, rummaging through a drawer. Matthew glanced around and had to laugh. The counters were covered in flour, and drying pasta hung from a string running through the room. He wasn't kidding when he said he was making a lot of pasta.

"Here we go!" Feliciano cried suddenly, waving a pad of yellow sticky notes and a pen in the air. "Write your message for Mister Prussia here!"

Feliciano pressed the items into Matthew's hands and watched him intently. Matthew suddenly froze. What was he supposed to say? 'Hey, Gil, I know I never told you but guess what? I'm in love with you.' No, that was no good. Plus, Italy was standing right here.

Matthew scribbled down a few words, then handed the pad back to Feliciano. "There. Will you give that to him?"

Feliciano nodded happily, a grin stretched across his face. "Ve, of course I will!"

"Thanks. I guess I'll see you later."

"Bye-bye, Mario!"

"Matthew."

"Bye-bye Matthew!"

* * *

Germany and Prussia returned home late that night and found a sleeping Feliciano curled up on the couch, a half-eaten bowl of pasta left forgotten on the coffee table and an Italian soap opera playing on the television. Germany scooped the Italian up in his arms while Prussia grabbed the television remote.

"Ve," the Italian muttered in his sleep, wrapping his arms around Germany's neck.

"Guten nacht, bruder," Germany said in a low voice.

"Yeah, night West," Prussia muttered absently, already surfing through channels.

* * *

Italy sat bolt upright the next morning, surprising Germany, who was dressing in the corner. "Feliciano? Is something wrong?"

"Ve, Ludwig, I forgot to tell Mister Gilbert last night!"

"What?"

"Marco left him a message!" Feliciano exclaimed, throwing off the covers and jumping out of bed.

"Italia, put your pants on first!" Ludwig bellowed after him, but he was already gone.

* * *

Gilbert woke to a half naked Italian jumping on his bed. "What the fuck, Feli?" he groaned, still half asleep. "I'm pretty sure West is upstairs if you want sex." He rolled over and closed his eyes again.

"No, I have to give you an important message! It's from Max!"

"Max? I don't know anyone named Max, it's probably a salesman, Feli. Lemme sleep."

"No, no, I know he's not! Well, actually, he might be, but he said he was your friend and that I needed to give you this message!" Feliciano shoved a piece of paper into Gilbert's face.

"What the hell, Feli?" Gilbert muttered, snatching the paper from the rambling Italian and holding it at a distance he could actually read from.

_Gilbert,  
My house, 7am. Be there.  
-Birdie_

"Oh shit, why didn't you tell me Mattie came by?" Gilbert asked. "Damn, seven am? What time is it?"

"It's half-past eight," Feliciano supplied, checking the clock in the corner.

"Shit!" Gilbert yelled, hauling himself out of his bed and yanking on a pair of jeans over his boxers. He grabbed a black t-shirt from where he's tossed it last night and bolted out the door. While he normally couldn't care less about being on time, there was something about Canada that was different. He hated disappointing his Birdie.

* * *

Matthew sat, slouched in a chair, at his kitchen table; his head propped up on one hand, as the index finger of his other hand twirled his coffee mug around in circles. Gilbert hadn't come. Matthew couldn't understand. Gilbert was known to show up on Matthew's doorstep as early as 4am when the promise of pancakes hung in the air. He hadn't said pancakes on the note, but Matthew was convinced that Gilbert found the name "Mattie" synonymous with the word "pancakes". It was probably the only reason Prussia even payed any attention to Canada: he always made him pancakes.

Matthew sighed. Any level of confidence he had built up yesterday had dropped severely every minute past seven the clock had ticked. By now, it was long gone, and the Canadian was left to speculate as to the reasons why his friend had stood him up, and why they were even friends in the first place.

Matthew picked himself up, grabbed his maple coffee – which had long since gone cold – and headed into the kitchen. He wasn't going to mope around all day because the irresponsible former German nation had stood him up for a breakfast date. He had better things to do. Kumajirou was already demanding lunch. Matthew decided he had better move on.

That is, until the front door burst open and slammed against the wall behind it, revealing a very tousled German with a very frantic look on his face. "Birdie!" he called, leaving the door open and racing into the house with absolutely no regard for anything except finding Canada. "Birdie, I'm so sorry I'm late!"

"Gilbert?" Matthew stepped out of the kitchen wearing a confused expression, only to be practically crushed in a hug. "Gilbert, what're you-"

"Birdie! Oh, Mattie, I'm sorry I'm late. Feli didn't give me the note you left until this morning!"

The Canadian didn't respond. He was too busy trying to breathe through the bone-crushing embrace. "Gil," he choked finally. "Let go."

Gilbert immediately released Matthew. "So yeah. Sorry I'm so late. Feli's kind of an airhead. Plus, he was asleep when West and I got home last night. Anyway, got any pancakes?"

Matthew stood there a few seconds, just blinking at Gilbert. "Uh... S-sure."

Gilbert followed as Matthew turned and went back into the kitchen, pulled a bowl of pancake batter out of the fridge, and turned on the stove. "I thought you weren't coming," Canada said absently as he waited for the frying pan to heat up.

"Why wouldn't I come, Birdie? You make the most awesome pancakes in the world!" Gilbert grinned and jumped up to sit on the counter-top.

"Thanks," Matthew said softly, staring at the black surface of the frying pan.

"You're so quiet, Mattie," Gilbert said as Matthew cooked, swinging his legs and letting his heels bang into the cupboard doors. "Even for you."

"Yeah," Matthew flipped a pancake out of the pan and poured in another with practiced ease. He handed the hot pancake to Prussia on a plate, and took the liberty of pouring maple syrup on top for him. Then he handed Prussia a fork and flipped over the now perfectly browned pancake in the pan.

"Gilbert, I... I invited you over this morning because I have s-something that I... I wanna tell you, eh?"

Gilbert lifts an eyebrow and meets Matthew's eyes. "Jah? You know you can tell me anything, Mattie."

Matthew swallowed hard. "I... I wanted to tell you t-that... that I like you."

Gilbert smirks. "I like you too, Birdie."

"N-no. I more than like you. I..." Matthew swallowed again and averted his gaze, trying to stop blushing. "I think I'm in love with you."

Gilbert's smirk grew. "Birdie, you look so sexy with maple syrup on your face." Gilbert gives a wicked grin and leans forward.

Matthew's cheeks reddened and he automatically began to lean back out of Gilbert's reach. "G-gilbert. Be serious for a minute, eh? Please."

"I am being serious, Birdie." Gilbert hopped off the counter and advanced toward Matthew. "I just want to help you get the syrup off your face."

"I d-don't have s-syrup o-on my face." Matthew's voice was barely audible and his face was completely crimson.

"I think that you do, liebling."

Matthew ducked under Gilbert's arm when he put it on the counter beside him and quickly pulled the burning pancake out of the pan. "I was trying to be serious and you turn it into a game," Matthew muttered, getting a little angry. "You know how hard it was for me to tell that to you, eh? And then you just brush it off like it was nothing."

"Birdie, Birdie, hey." Prussia reached around Canada, pulled the pan off the burner and turned off the stove in a deft movement. Then he took the Canadian by the shoulders and spun him around so they were facing each other. "I wasn't trying to brush it off." Gilbert captured Matthew's lips in a kiss that made the Canadian's knees melt. "Ich liebe dich auch, Matthew."

Canada made a soft shuddering sound as Prussia kissed him. He'd wondered before what it would be like to kiss Prussia, but he tried not to think about it too often, as the very thought made him blush. It wasn't what he'd thought, but he figured that this was better, anyway.

At some point, Gilbert picked Matthew up and carried him out of the kitchen. "Hey Mattie?" he asked – as well as he could with the Canadian devouring his mouth with a sudden burst of confident lust.

"Hmm?"

"Can we take this to your room?"

"Mm-hmm."

* * *

Matthew felt the mattress rush up to meet his back, but his focus stayed on Gilbert. Said Prussian straddled Canada and wormed his hands up the sides of the red sweatshirt. Matthew's breath shuddered at the touch and he let a soft, keening whimper escape from the back of his throat. Gilbert chuckled and broke the kiss, sitting up and pulling off the sweatshirt and the underlying t-shirt. "Well, verdammt, Birdie. You didn't tell me you had a six pack."

"I didn't know that was relative information," Matthew practically whispered, feeling a blush run through his face. Gilbert smirked and traced Matthew's abs with his finger, then leaned down and started to kiss Matthew's neck. Matthew took the time to pull Gilbert's t-shirt up and quickly over his head as well. The feeling of warm skin against his own made Matthew shiver in pleasure.

"You like that, Birdie?" Gilbert murmured, his breath and the rumble of his voice tickling Matthew's ear. All he got in response was another high pitched moan, which made Gilbert grin. "Good. Mein funf meters are all excited to see you today, Birdie."

Matthew didn't really know how to respond to that. Gilbert was certainly much more experienced at this than he was, and he was afraid of making a wrong move. Gilbert knew just what to do to get a reaction from Matthew, though. Not words, but the little sounds of pleasure that escaped at frequent intervals. Gilbert couldn't stop smirking the whole time. He knew Birdie was enjoying this, and too shy to be vocal about it. Gilbert unbuckled Matthew's belt and pulled off his jeans, tugging at the waistband of his Canadian flag boxers. That is when Canada found his inner France.

He pushed Gilbert off of him and back on to the pillows before climbing on top of him. Gilbert's eyes went up in surprise when he saw the glint in the violet eyes above him. "Birdie?"

Matthew made no response, but attacked Gilbert's neck with his lips. Gilbert laid back and enjoyed the initiative the other man had taken for several minutes. Mattie knew what he was doing more than he let on. Gilbert wasn't even sure when Matthew actually got inside his pants, but the next thing he knew there was a warm, wet mouth surrounding his member and it made Gilbert moan in ecstasy. "Birdie," he moaned as the man bobbed his head, taking Gilbert in and out of his mouth with seemingly practiced skill. "Damn it, Birdie, why are you so good at this?"

Matthew released Gilbert's member from his mouth and moved back up toward his lips. Gilbert hissed a little at the loss, but was distracted by the sweet taste of Matthew's mouth on his. "France liked to give me popsicles when I was a kid. I had no idea he was teaching me how to do a blow-job at the time. My innocence was shattered at a young age, and I had no idea."

Gilbert chuckled. "Remind me to thank Francis next time we go drinking. But seriously, Mattie. I'm not letting you top." With that, the former nation grabbed his lover and rolled over, admiring the blonde beneath him with a satisfied smirk.

"Fine then. I'll take whatever you've got."

"You asked for it, Birdie," Gilbert murmured teasingly. "You'll be begging for more."

"I hope so."

"Wait a sec. Birdie, tell me if I've got this right."

"What?"

Gilbert grinned and grasped Canada's stray curl between his fingers, rolling it back and forth. Canada yelped and Gilbert could see Matthew practically melt into the sheets, writhing and panting in ecstasy. "This thing turns you on, right?" he asked, even though the answer was right before him.

"Oh maple..."


End file.
